


This is not a fucking competition

by kanronotatsu, molluscagonewild



Series: The life of a polecat [4]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Bloodplay, M/M, Rough Body Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanronotatsu/pseuds/kanronotatsu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/molluscagonewild/pseuds/molluscagonewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some polecats are staying in the Citadel as guests and Slit gets into a constant competition with Spikes, that ends one day in a win-win situation. Spikes/Slit</p><p>(Pun in the title absolutely, totally, shamelessly intended.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is not a fucking competition

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks to the amazing Molluscagonewild for your help, support and additions to the story.
> 
> Warnings: for bloodplay, biting, general roughness
> 
> (Spikes is my polecat OC, I wrote about him in my The life of a polecat series. His appearance is completely based on Captain Flint from Black Sails. /and I'm not even sorry for it/)

The warboy was amusing. Even more so because he was trying to be awesome, fearsome, but only managed to put a smile on Spikes’ face. He was smaller than Spikes, by a good head, but that didn’t stop him to almost headbutt the polecat every given moment. He was competitive, dangerously so, even if their fields of expertise only overlapped when they needed to throw things. Precise aim and artistic execution were their strong points. As for Spikes, he was content with having someone else on the ragtag “team” who was just as good at these two things as himself.

As for the warboy, it was solely a matter of pride and ego. Up until then _he_ was the best, _he_ was the lancer everyone wanted on their car, _he_ was the one with the most precise aim, _he_ was the one with the chromest kills. And now this polecat - he had to spit just thinking about polecats, what did polecats actually _know_? - waltzed in and everyone was off about how chrome he was, how good a marksman he was, how strong he was, how… The warboy’s head spun by all the mentions of this _Spikes_ \- even the name was mediocre - and his face contorted to a constant grimace. It didn’t help that the polecat was fucking tall, with rust-colored hair and green-grey eyes, making him stand out among the white-painted warboys. Slit hated his guts.

They were like fire and oil to that fire, because Spikes, being who he is, only managed to kindle the flames already burning dangerously high. Because he was just as headstrong as the warboy. If not more so. And he enjoyed eliciting a reaction from the other. The warboy was so predictable and easy to piss off. He enjoyed seeing the flames of anger in his eyes - unmatched, such curious eyes - and how his muscles flexed in his neck and arms, trying awfully hard not to punch Spikes. And every time they bumped heads, which was like all the time, everyone thought that this was it, now the warboy, who was already known for his ferocity, will blow. It would’ve been a relief, to be honest, as the constant friction between them literally filled the air with tension, suffocating everyone.

 

“Slit…” Spikes murmured the name for the hundredth time, like he was tasting it. They were at the shooting range on practice. Of course Slit had to make it a competition again, and everyone else slowly slipped away, leaving the two alone.

“What kind of name is that anyway?”

Slit rolled his eyes. Spikes irritated the hell out of him just by breathing, not to mention talking.

“What kind of a smeg name is Spikey, anyway?!”

Slit turned to face the polecat, just to feel his anger and irritation hit the roof when he saw that the redhead was smiling. Again. Always.

“Spikey… I like that. Sounds chrome.”

Slit wanted to bang his head against a wall. Or better: bang the polecat’s head against a wall, until that stupid shiteating grin melted from his face. Forever, preferably. _You aren’t allowed to kill the schlanger_ , he reminded himself. Instead he spat on the ground.

“It’s _mediocre_.”

Spikes felt he should’ve been insulted, but it was entirely impossible. Slit was… _cute_. In his own psychopathic and aggressive way. Since the Gastown boys arrived in the Citadel - Immortan Joe’s orders - Spikes’ main occupation was either practice or playing with Slit. The warboy provided him with enough fun, not even realising that Spikes was doing everything on purpose.

“But really. How did you get that?” Spikes pointed at the metal clips in Slit’s face.

That fascinated him too. Spikes’ every scar which crisscrossed all over his skin had a story to it. He was interested in Slit’s story.

“Not your fucking business.” came the grunted response. Of course.

Spikes sniggered which made Slit shudder from irritation. “I bet you accidentally cut yourself.”

Slit, who was just preparing to throw a lance at the dummy set up at the other end of the room, turned around sharply and stepped as close to Spikes as was physically possible. Even if they weren’t nearly on the same height, Slit being on eye-level with Spikes’ collarbone, the warboy managed to bump foreheads with the polecat. This was because Spikes leaned his head down, he enjoyed it when Slit became so vexed and liked looking into those eyes from up close.

The air seemed to crackle between them.

“Say _what_ , stupid mediocre schlanger?!”

“‘I bet you accidentally cut yourself’ was what I said. Are you getting deaf now, Slitty?”

Spikes watched with delight as Slit’s mouth twitched in anger, but didn’t count on him getting physical. Slit shoved Spikes back into the wall with such force that his head audibly banged against it. For a split second Spikes was surprised, even forgot to smile. Slit on the other hand was grinning ear to ear, he finally managed to wipe the grin from the polecat’s stupid face. But then Spikes chuckled and spat out some blood - he bit his tongue accidentally.

“You don’t wanna fight with me, pup.”

This was the point when Slit’s already slim self control went out the window. He lunged at Spikes but the polecat was fast and slid out of his way, so Slit bumped into the wall too. This just angered him more if possible. He threw a punch next, aiming at Spikes’ face, but the polecat caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. Slit cried out unwittingly, trying to wriggle free of Spikes’ hold.

“Settle down, pup, or you’ll get hurt for real.”

Somehow Spikes’ voice was deeper than usual. Slit didn’t know, but this only happened when Spikes was extremely excited. Like up on the pole during a raid. He felt the same rush of adrenaline now too, which was strange, because fighting with a warboy shouldn’t be as enjoyable. Yet it was, undeniably. Spikes held Slit by the arm tightly, not allowing the warboy to move without causing pain.

“I’ll show you hurt, schlanger.” Slit spat out.

He fought to get free despite the pain is his arm, and even managed to cut Spikes with the blade attached to his free arm. Spikes was careless, and now he had a bleeding slash across his chest. Feeling the stinging pain finally brought the polecat to the point where he became serious. Slit saw the change but was too far gone to notice that it wasn’t gonna bode well for him. He enjoyed himself too, and wanted to show the polecat that he was _better_. He held to this belief up until Spikes managed to grab his arm again, this time the one holding the blade, and slam him into the wall face-first.

Slit tasted blood on his tongue and felt Spikes’ body pressed against his. His arm was twisted painfully behind his back, stuck between the two of them. His fingertips became wet with Spikes’ blood. This was a completely new sensation for Slit. He had never ever before lost _any_ fight. Some would argue that picking on Nux and then winning the resulting fight didn’t really count. But Slit had ego, too much of it actually, and anything counted as a win for him. Except… well… _now._ Pinned against a wall by a polecat. This was definitely not a ‘win’.

“I told you not to fight with me, _pup_.” Spikes used that word deliberately to piss off Slit.

The effect was instantaneous. Slit, though obviously in the losing position, tried to wriggle free again. Spikes only laughed.

“Stay still, _Slit_.”

This time the warboy’s name rolled down from his tongue smoothly. His voice was impossibly deep, Slit could feel his chest rumble. The warboy suddenly found himself listening to Spikes’ heartbeat, and the way the polecat’s body was pressed hard against his own. Spikes’ breath lingered on his neck, sending unwanted shudders down his spine. The polecat was dragging out this thing too long for comfort. Slit tried to push himself away from the wall with his free hand, but Spikes was immovable behind him.

“Let go of me.” Slit murmured.

He wasn’t sure about speaking up, it was like acknowledging his defeat, but the situation got really awkward for him. Spikes was standing still, though, his thoughts racing.

Had he just felt Slit _shudder_? And now he was asking for something, which equalled begging in the warboy’s case. How curious. But Spikes wasn’t about to just let go. Slit cut him, he will have another scar, and when the others will ask what had happened he cannot just say that it was because of a smeg warboy. And that he was being too amused to be careful.

“I couldn’t hear you, Slit.”

He was certain this time that the warboy shuddered. Spikes felt heat surge over his body in an instant. Suddenly biting into Slit’s neck seemed like a pretty good idea. Maybe that will make the warboy moan too.

“I said: FUCK YOU!” Slit all but yelled at Spikes.

“You want to fuck me?” Spikes asked, only half-joking, because the notion made him slightly aroused.

Slit’s eyes widened with surprise. He had a feeling about the polecat’s intentions since he pressed his body this hard against the stone wall, but he didn’t expect him to be this blunt. Not many dared to ask him to fuck. To some he would simply say no, and others just couldn’t handle what they asked for. But the polecat’s voice was confident and husky, not a trace of second thoughts.

“Is that an offer?” Slit grinned, his staples rubbed against the stone as he tried to get a better stance before spinning around quickly to face the polecat. Or... trying to spin, as Spikes was ready for the move and slammed Slit right back into the wall. Spikes put his gloved hand around Slit’s neck, tightening his grip just enough to make breathing a bit hard for the warboy.

“You can take it as one.” Slit could hear his smile in his voice and it made him just a bit more furious. _This fucker..._

Spikes felt the tension in the other man and in his own pants, which were getting uncomfortably tight. He eased his pressure on Slit’s hand, just enough so it wouldn’t be painful anymore. For a moment he thought that maybe he should let Slit turn around after all, but then dismissed the idea. He liked Slit exactly where he was now.

“Fucking you won’t be easy like this.” Slit pressed through his teeth, speaking was a bit difficult thanks to the hand around his throat.

Spikes’ laughter echoed off the walls and the warboy felt his blood pressure hit the roof again.

“No.” the polecat whispered in his ear “But fucking _you_ will.”

Spikes’ breath tickled Slit’s ear and as the polecat suddenly pushed their bodies even more into the rock, he could feel the other man’s erection through his trousers. _This smeg polecat…_

“You think so?” Slit yelled as he threw his head back, hitting Spikes in the face. The grip on his throat loosened just enough for him to finally turn face to face with the polecat.

Spikes was caught completely unawares by Slit’s attack, again. _Shit. A headbutt, not bad_ , he thought. But a broken nose wasn’t really that pleasant. Spikes felt anger for the first time. _Damn stupid warboy, why can’t he just stay put and do what he’s told for once?_ When Slit turned around the polecat planted a knee between his legs so he wouldn’t even think of going anywhere. Spikes licked the blood trickling down from his nose, grinning. He quickly grabbed hold of Slit’s dangerous bladed hand and pinned it above his head. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel Slit fighting back. And the ferocity in the warboy’s eyes turned to something much more... pleasant. Spikes grinned even wider and bumped their foreheads together, just as Slit liked to do.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want it _my way._ ”

Slit felt impossibly hot and aroused. More than it was normal. This was not normal, Spikes wasn’t normal, he was something Slit had never encountered before. That dart of the polecat’s tongue that licked the fine trickle of blood above his lips mesmerized Slit. He was in fact so distracted that even forgot to fight back when the redhead pinned one arm above his head. _One arm…_ When their foreheads touched - he knew that Spikes had to lean down to do this, _shit,_ he knew all along - Slit quickly grabbed a fistful of the polecat’s short hair and forced his head back. Before Spikes could react - he was surprisingly slow - the warboy bit into the nape of his neck, hard enough to draw blood.

Spikes suddenly let go of him, but in the next moment the warboy was pressed into the wall again, Spikes pinning both of his hands on either side of his head. This time though Slit was the one grinning. Spikes momentarily lost control and his eyes shone with a fervour Slit never saw before. And when the polecat leaned his head down to lick his own blood from Slit’s lips, the warboy found himself extremely interested in _his way_.

“Your way…” Slit stuttered out between heavy breaths “What…”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence. Not that he actually _knew_ what he wanted to say, his head felt like it was stuffed with sand. But all thoughts were promptly wiped from his brain when Spikes tugged on the belt of his pants, slipping one hand inside to grab his ass.

The strangled moan escaping Slit’s lips and the way the warboy’s body arched into him did amazing things to Spikes. He felt his control slipping again, his muscles turning to mud, which gave an opportunity for Slit to try asserting _his_ dominance.

It was unexpectedly easy to flip their positions. Spikes wasn’t even trying to pretend to resist. When his back hit the cold stone wall he relaxed against it and let Slit take the wheel for the time being. Just for a short while.

The warboy grabbed Spikes’ hair again, roughly tugging on it, eliciting a rumbling groan from the polecat. Slit grinned and returned his attention to the bitemark he left earlier on the redhead’s neck. He bit into it again, sucking the tender flesh between his teeth.

 _This will certainly leave a mark_ , Spikes thought, but he was already too far gone to care. He enjoyed Slit’s roughness, usually he was the one roughing the other up, not this way around. It was a pleasant change. When the warboy started lapping up the blood from the fresh wound on his chest, Spikes threw his head back, trying to stop himself from moaning.

“Fuck.”

Slit sniggered. “I’m trying.”

Spikes shuddered unwittingly and pulled Slit into him, grinding their hips together. He felt that the warboy was just as much aroused as he was. _Good._ But if Slit thought that Spikes will let him do whatever he wanted from now on, he was in for a surprise. When Slit’s mouth wandered back to the already very sensitive skin on his neck, Spikes had enough of playing around. Mustering up some strength he flipped the warboy over again, and Slit found himself facing the wall once more.

“Enough playing.” Spikes groaned into Slit’s ear while reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

Spikes’ fingers slid down along Slit’s chest and stomach, tracing his scars and the rough contours of his scarifications. For a few moments the warboy didn’t mind being in the loser position. Again. Then he tried to struggle, pushing himself off the wall, but found that his strength wasn’t nearly enough to budge Spikes. Who was now tugging his pants down his legs. _No, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this._ He fought against Spikes’ searching touch, even if it felt amazingly good. He wasn’t going to acknowledge this, never. It shouldn’t feel so good, being dominated. It was an alien feeling, and yet…

“Stop struggling, smeg.” the polecat breathed against his ear.

Spikes did the first thing that came to mind: bit down on Slit’s shoulder. Some of the white paint got into his mouth, but he didn’t mind, because the result was a writhing and whimpering warboy finally relaxing against his body. Spikes wrapped one arm around Slit’s stomach to keep him in place, while he discarded his glove and curled his other hand around the warboy’s already rock hard cock.

Slit felt heat pool in his stomach and couldn’t help moaning. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of the polecat’s rough hand stroking his sensitive skin. It felt better than he expected based on his experiences with other warboys. The polecat was skilled.

Spikes picked up some pace, causing Slit’s knees to go weak. If the polecat wasn’t holding him up, he would’ve dropped to the floor. His hands searched for something to hold on to, but only found Spikes’ arm. Slit gripped it, his fingers leaving red marks on the polecat’s skin. His breathing became ragged and laboured.

“Shit.”

Spikes was on the verge of losing control again. Watching the warboy come undone under his hands felt him wanting to do more, to rough Slit up more. So he would learn once and for all who was in control.

Spikes let go of Slit so suddenly the warboy almost fell to the floor. As the warmth of the polecat’s body left his back, Slit leaned his forehead against the cool stone, but the heat inside him wasn’t just going away. And there was no release yet.

“Wha…?” Slit fought to put together a coherent sentence, but barely managed a word.

It wasn’t that he wanted so bad to be fucked by Spikes, no. It’s just… he felt too hot all over and now the smeg polecat left him wanting. Not fair.

“Why did you stop?”

Slit pushed himself away from the wall, and bumped into Spikes, who was apparently standing just a step away from him. The warboy’s body tensed for a moment and Spikes wondered if it was from surprise or anticipation.

“You don’t want me to stop?”

Now this was a tricky question. The answer would require Slit to admit that he was, indeed, enjoying the situation. No way he’s gonna do that. But then again, if he didn’t then maybe the smeg will just walk away. _No way, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t, right?!_

“Answer me, Slit. Do you want me to continue?”

Spikes dragged a nail along Slit’s spine, tracing his scarifications all the way down to his ass, and it was about all the warboy could take. He won’t fucking say anything, but there was another way. Slit turned around to face Spikes and this time the polecat wasn’t stopping him. Those grey-green eyes were burning, the iris almost swallowed up by the dark pupil. _So he is on the edge too. Then this should be easy_.

Slit grinned lazily and tugged on Spikes’ belt, backing him up against the wall. The polecat watched Slit hungrily with raised eyebrows, curious to see what he had planned. To Spikes’ greatest surprise and astonishment, Slit fell to his knees in front of him.

Slit knew exactly what to do; he had some chrome skills too - confirmed by others -, just not with his hands. _Although this smeg kit is hard to figure out._ He looked up into Spikes’ eyes and grinned.

“You want an answer, don’t you?” Slit was still holding onto his belt with one hand, his other hand slowly sliding up on Spikes’ thigh, over his ass, looping a finger into the back of his pants too.

The polecat was standing still, still fixing Slit with his burning gaze. He now knew what Slit was planning, and he liked the idea pretty much. He leaned his head back, waiting for Slit to finally free his aching cock from the confinement. But the warboy surprised him yet again. _Honestly, Slit was supposed to be entirely predictable, when did he change?_ Instead of freeing Spikes from his pants Slit pulled the polecat forward with a sharp tug, while he sat back down on his heels. Spikes landed on his knees, his legs sprawled on either side of Slit’s thighs. The warboy’s head came dangerously close to Spikes’ groin.

Slit was still grinning as he finally started to unbuckle Spikes’ belt. The polecat grabbed Slit’s shoulder, steadying himself. Slit moved one of his hands to the polecat’s throat and clenched his fingers on it, grinning widely, making his staples ache slightly. He pulled Spikes’ face closer to his and took a hungry glance at his mouth.

Spikes didn't mind this show of dominance, he let Slit enjoy the feeling as long as it would last. Besides, he didn’t want to do anything that could maybe thwart Slit from sucking him, Spikes wanted that way too much.

Slit slowly slid his other hand in the polecat’s trousers and chuckled when he felt the lack of undergarments. _There are a few things that warboys and polecats have in common._ He grabbed onto Spikes’ cock, pulling it out of his pants. Slit ran his fingers along its length, tracing it up to the tip. The throaty moan it elicited from Spikes made him chuckle again and he pulled their faces even closer. He could feel the polecat’s hot breath and even the stubble, as their chins touched.

Spikes’ jaw tightened. Slit wasn’t doing anything, beside pissing him off so far by taking things way too slow. “Fucking tease.” he breathed against the warboy’s lips.

“What, you don’t want me to stop?”

Spikes felt the irony of the situation and would’ve appreciated Slit’s joke if it wasn’t on his expense. But before he could get vocal and physical about his disapproval of the warboy’s behaviour, Slit bent down and took him into his mouth. Not just the tip but the whole length at once. Spikes choked back a moan, but when Slit started bobbing his head the polecat couldn’t keep his voice contained anymore.

Slit let Spikes’ cock to slide out a bit and when he took it back in he pushed the tip at the inner side of his cheek. He knew the staples had their advantages. He rubbed the tip against the small pieces of rough metal and looked up at the polecat’s face to see his reaction.

Spikes had his eyes closed, his brows furrowed as in great concentration. Small beads of sweat trickled down from his forehead into his eyes, wetting his eyelashes. Slit for a moment, just for a split moment, just for the third of a split moment thought that Spikes was really pretty. But then that really tiny, microscopic moment was gone and he was back to what he was doing before, enjoying the soft moans escaping from the polecat.

Spikes lost track of time. He felt the tension and heat pool in his stomach, Slit was damned good at what he did. But it had to stop somewhere, because Spikes wasn’t gonna settle for some measly sucking. When he felt close enough to blowing point he had to force himself to move. He let his body collapse back onto his heels, this way Slit couldn’t reach him anymore. Spikes took half a moment to get his breathing even, then pushed back the apparently stunned warboy until he was lying in the dust. While he got rid of his pants for good Slit tried to sit up. Spikes stopped him with a forceful but quite gentle shove against his chest.

“Like I said, enough playing.”

Slit was completely taken aback by Spikes’ sudden actions. He thought that the polecat was too far gone to have any control left, but it seemed that the fucker had a strong will. And now he seemed intent on being on top. Slit had a thing or two to say about that, but what came out of his mouth was more like a guttural moan when Spikes started working on his cock again.

“Oh, fuck.”

Seeing Slit sprawled out beneath him made Spikes incredibly hungry. And equally hot. He wanted to reduce Slit to a writhing mess, until the warboy himself begged Spikes to fuck him. The polecat knew very well that this point will probably never come, but no one could say he didn't try. He even went as far as taking the tip of Slit's cock into his mouth. The warboy's reaction was absolutely worth the effort. Spikes had to push down on his stomach to stop Slit from thrashing under him. He then inserted a finger in Slit, gauging his reaction. The warboy was tense, too tense, so Spikes decided to up his game a bit. He rarely ever sucked anyone, it wasn't really his favourite pastime, but Spikes was willing to make an exception of Slit. The warboy had earned it. Spikes licked the warboy’s cock up and down then took it in his mouth again, taking it as deep as he could, while he kept pumping his fingers, first one, then two and three in and out of Slit, feeling his body gradually loosen up.

Slit snapped his head up, looking at Spikes kneeling between his thighs, sucking on his cock. _Smeg polecat..._ His eyes lost focus and his brain seemed to shut down. Spikes' fingers worked magic on him too, Slit was loath to admit, but the polecat was making him feel incredible. He never thought that being fucked could be this pleasurable. And then he almost blacked out when Spikes' finger brushed over a very sensitive spot inside him. It was a miracle he didn't come yet.

"Holy shit... Fuck me." he breathed out between two moans.

Spikes grinned and straightened up. "What did you say?"

 _And you call me a tease._ Slit dropped all resistance, he felt like he was burning and right now only Spikes could soothe the flames. His body moved on automat, his arm reaching out to grab Spikes' hair and bump their heads together.

"You heard me alright. I won't say it again."

The polecat's smug smile irritated Slit. _He better not be telling any stories about this, or I'll gut him_ , he thought before letting go of Spikes and collapsing back on the ground.

Spikes watched as the warboy's chest heaved, his breaths short and heavy. Not unlike Spikes' own. It was a long time ago he felt this aroused and excited. He moved to kneel between Slit’s thighs, propping one of the warboy’s legs up on his shoulder to get a better position. Slit raised his head just enough to see what Spikes was doing. The warboy was looking at the redhead with anxious excitement. They were both on the verge, just waiting for release. Then the wardrums started pounding down in the valley.

Both warboy and polecat tensed for a moment. Their ears must be playing tricks on them. This wasn’t, _couldn’t be_ real.

“You hear that too?”

“Fucking smeg shit.”

Now they heard running footsteps coming from the tunnel. They pulled up their pants as fast as they could, before the war pup sent for them appeared.

“Ace wants you in the garage.”

Slit shot a murderous glance at the pup and the boy retreated immediately. He was irritated, impossibly hot and wrung up, and now he won’t even get the release he deserved. Because he _deserved it_ , dammit, he even begged to the smeg polecat. Slit’s blood boiled, he cursed everyone in the Citadel - except Joe, of course - and stomped out without saying a word.

Spikes lingered behind for a moment to get his glove then went after the furious warboy. He was annoyed too, but knowing Slit, the warboy was possibly mad with fury. _He will be very useful in the war_. At the garage Spikes went straight to his driver, Scrap, thinking about ways to explain his injuries. While passing Slit, he smiled at the warboy.

It took all of Nux’s power to stop Slit from going over and “punch his ugly shit of a face” in. Nux was puzzled. He knew that the two of them wasn’t really on good terms - who was ever on good terms with Slit anyway? - but Slit didn’t get physical before. The driver looked over his lancer, there was a light bruise on Slit’s forehead and something which looked suspiciously like a bitemark on his shoulder. Looking over at Spikes and his bunch Nux noticed that the polecat was also looking a bit worse for wear; with a possibly broken nose, a fresh, still bleeding slash on his chest and his neck looking like some animal chewed on it for a while.

“Did you fight with the polecat boss? Joe said we shouldn’t fi-”

“Shut your mouth schlanger, and drive. I’m aching to kill something.”

“But if Ace-”

“One more word and you will be my first kill.”

 

* * *

 

The night was hot and dry inside the Citadel. The rock walls were seeping a bit of cold which made the temperature a bit more bearable. Most of the warboys were sleeping tight, they were tired after the long and busy day. The silence was disturbed by some snoring and coughing. Then a loud noise, boring uncanny resemblance to an excited moan, rang through the room.

"You're noisy, pup. You're gonna wake everyone up."

There was a whisper and some panting.

"Shut... hhngg... up."

"You shut up."

"You talk... too much."

"And you're too loud."

The sound of the next moan was dampened by a hand above a mouth. But the silent gasps were still continuing for a long while.

"Aargh! You... bit my hand!"

"Shut up. You like it, kit."

"Who are you calling a kit?!"

"Who's loud now?"

In the darkness only contours were visible as the two wrestled on the rugs. The bigger one won by pinning the smaller to the ground by the throat. A few moments later their movements synchronized again and the pants and gasps returned.

 

The next morning Nux found Slit in the garage, asleep on a bunch of toolboxes in a very uncomfortable position. The lancer looked like he had a run-in with a wall during the night. Nux’s suspicion was raised again. Last day Slit came back bruised after a practice with the chrome redhead polecat, Spikes. And now there were additional bruises and some marks on his throat. From... fingers?

“Whaddaya want, Nux?”

Slit was only half-awake, but he saw that the driver’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“Did you get into a fight with Spikes again?”

A satisfied and smug grin spread on Slit’s face.

“Damn right I did.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first time writing smut, and I'm absolutely embarrassed about it, so be gentle with the reviews (they are always appreciated).


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